


Ice Breaker

by IWP_chan



Series: Forget-Me-Not [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Dreams, M/M, More Inside, Re:Mind Spoilers, That is all, classical kh dream shenanigans i guess, mentions of yozora, this fic just happened because i wanted to write something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23099881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWP_chan/pseuds/IWP_chan
Summary: Sora is cold and his Heart is full of yearning. Re:Mind spoilers.
Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: Forget-Me-Not [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672042
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Ice Breaker

Summary: Sora is cold and his Heart is full of yearning. Re:Mind spoilers.

_Note: had the insatiable urge to write something blatantly shippy no matter how little thought was put into it. As long as it was blatantly shippy, it works for me. So I don’t really have any elaborate set-up for this, whoops >>_

**Warnings: Re:Mind Spoilers (Including Limitcut (Vaguely) And Secret Episode), Yozora Fight Going On A Loop, Sora Dreaming While Stuck In The Crystal (But He Doesn’t Know That), Author Laughing Hysterically In The Background, Sora Yearns, Guest Star: Sora Forgot About Riku Theory, Pronoun Confusion Galore (I Tried).**

**Disclaimer:** Don’t own KH.

.

_He’s cold._

.

He’s lost, stuck in an endless loop of fighting and losing, of fighting and being caged in cold crystal.

Until he isn’t.

Until he opens his eyes, the chill of the crystalline touch that held him still lingering, and he’s alone. Him, an impromptu arena, the night sky, and no Other.

He’s wary, fingers twitching for his Keyblade, not trusting in the apparent respite.

Between one breath and the next, He is there, standing, head bowed, and Kingdom Key slips into his hands, as his body gets ready to begin fighting again.

The Other raises His head, opens green, green eyes, and he stills.

The Not Other reaches His hand out to him, and waits, expression gentle, patient.

.

_He’s cold._

.

He’s stuck in an endless loop of fighting and losing, of fighting and being overtaken by the unforgiving cold.

He yearns for his only reprieve, a ghost with silver hair and green eyes, reaching for him and waiting patiently for him to approach.

He hesitates, at first, the resemblance between the Other and Not Other too much for him to let his guard down easily.

But one encounter turns into two, and two into three, into four, into five, into six, into seven, until he loses track of time once more.

Initially, he only let’s go of his Keyblade, then he starts approaching slowly, the temptation of gravitating towards the figure who looks at him like he’s _the world_ is too much to resist.

And so, he breaks.

He carefully puts his hand on the Not Other’s, who grips his tightly but carefully, then slowly pulls him in, wrapping His arms around him, pressing his face into His chest, solid and warm, His Heart beating strongly within its confines.

He breaks, clutches tightly at Him, refusing to let go.

_(And who would ever let go of someone who cradles them like they’re the most precious treasure?)_

.

_He’s cold._

.

He waits, and waits, and waits, for the moments between the Cold and the Fight, waits for the Not Other, for the Warmth, where he can break and cry, where he can hold onto his last lifeline with his own hands, where he can feel the loneliness subside and hope rise.

Where love and devotion are pressed into his skin in searing kisses, where hands trace fire into every inch of him, and a pair of lips on his breathe life into his very being.

The Not Other mouths words into the night, voiceless, but he can almost hear them, a chant of his name spoken reverently.

_Sora, Sora, Sora, Sora, Sora, Sora, So-_

If this is all he has left, then he will fight to keep it.

.

_He’s col-_

.

For once, the Cold doesn’t retreat into the back of his mind when it fades away, for once, it’s ripped off of him, piece by piece, as if it’s being dragged from inside of him, and he opens his eyes, squinting at the Not Other above him, looking down at him in absolute relief and joy, tears gathering in His eyes.

The Not Other pulls him into a desperate embrace, buries His face in his hair, and speaks.

For once, Sora can hear Him.

_“Sora!”_

.

End

Affectionately summarized as “Sora has self-indulgent dreams: the fic”.

Mean title is mean.


End file.
